


Holding On For Your Call

by Ghost_Owl



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/F, Yearning, it's much more, lots of what-ifs, lots of yearning, sister relationships, tracesoka is very much a part of this but they don't meet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24651403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Owl/pseuds/Ghost_Owl
Summary: Ahsoka Tano was never able to leave Trace Martez's mind from the moment she fell out of the sky and into her life and saved it again and again.  And then she left.Now the galaxy wants those like Ahsoka dead, and despite not knowing for sure what happened to her, Trace can't stop feeling haunted by Ahsoka's ghost.
Relationships: Ahsoka Tano/Trace Martez, Trace Martez & Rafa Martez
Comments: 16
Kudos: 58





	Holding On For Your Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [simpskywalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simpskywalker/gifts).



> This is a birthday present for my friend Poke who was one of two enablers to get me to write and publish this (Hi Morgan! Thank you too, this is also your fault ;3). I know we were talking about a more explicitly _Tracesoka_ fic while this is a lot more of an angsty yearning mess flavored like Tracesoka but I hope you like! Happy Escape The Womb Day!
> 
> **Title from song "Delilah" by Florence and the Machine**

Trace doesn’t know how long it had been exactly since Ahsoka left them when the galaxy fell apart.

Her and Rafa are hanging around the shop, Trace trying to buff out a particularly tricky smear of carbon scoring on the side of the _Silver Angel_ , when alarms start shrieking outside. She looks up and shares an urgent look at Rafa, who had been at the table sorting out some creds. The lower level sirens never go off unless there’s a serious emergency, and for a second, they’re willing to brush it off as a fluke and go back to business as normal.

A quick glance outside sees other residents of the Coruscant underworld continuing to go on like nothing happened, and that’s all the warning Trace gets before the world lights up orange and at least half a building’s worth of dust and debris rain down from the heavens, sending a cloud of destruction through the open door of their hangar.

Trace falls off the wing of the _Angel_ , more stunned than hurt, and Rafa is yelling her name and pulling them both under the shadow of Trace’s ship that she had _just finished cleaning, kriff it all to hells_ , and they’re huddling together with Rafa’s arm over her while the ground shakes and the sirens wail and people outside are screaming as more things fall apart.

Eventually, the turmoil fades in the slightest, and Rafa makes careful movements to inch out from under the cover of the ship with firm orders snapped at Trace to stay where she is, and manages to dig out the small handheld radio from under the shop desk before shuffling back to safety and pressing herself close to Trace as they turn it out to find out just what is going on and why the world is ending.

Coruscant is under attack from the Separatist fleet, says the crackly static of the newscaster. All citizens are being advised to stay in place at home; planetary shields are expected to hold in most areas, but there are patches of the planet where the shields have failed, though the reporter stresses that these areas are most likely industrial, with very few people actually living there—

“ _We_ live here, you utter asswipes,” Rafa spits at the radio, Trace putting a hand on her shoulder to calm her so they can hear the broadcast. “Pretending we don’t exist just so they don’t feel bad about letting a thousand pounds of flaming of shit fall on our heads—“

_”Rafa!”_

Rafa settles into tight-lipped silence as the radio continues, worries of an attack on the Senate building and possible siege being addressed, but word from the government assures citizens that the Grand Army is already acting to relieve them, reports of General Ti’s troops being sent to engage the Separatists at this very moment, with rumors of the famed Open Circle Fleet being recalled back from the Outer Rim to provide additional support.

Keep calm, says the reporter. The Republic has nothing to fear.

You’re in good hands, they say as another chunk of rubble crashes down on something outside, setting off another round of screaming.

Rafa tenses against Trace’s side.

They stay like that for the remainder of the day while the world rocks and shudders around them, news from the radio for once making them grateful they live so far down; more of the shields have been breached and from what they hear, the posh topsiders are getting their fancy shit wrecked.

(Trace remembers Ahsoka telling her she had lived on the upper levels. That’s where the Jedi Temple is, she recalls).

Eventually, the chaos fades into silence when the radio announces triumphantly that it is once again safe to come outside, the planet has been liberated by the combined efforts of Generals Kenobi and Skywalker—

“Skywalker?” Trace sits up and almost brains herself on the belly of the ship, ignoring the radio’s chatter about the speculations of Count Dooku’s survival and whether or not stories of the Chancellor’s kidnapping are true or not. “That’s the name Ahsoka gave us!”

“Huh?” Rafa blinks.

When the mysterious girl who fell from the sky like an actual angel was trying to explain her surprisingly thorough mechanical knowledge despite the pitiful state of her bike, Trace had overlooked that slight hesitation before she had said _”Skywalker Academy”_. She had figured Ahsoka had just had bad memories of the place, but knowing what she did now…

“Skywalker Academy, remember? Ahsoka’s bogus school! Maybe she knows that guy!” Trace says, mind working quickly. “She said she was gonna go back to the Jedi at some point after helping Scary Lady, what if she’s with him? What if she’s back on Coruscant?”

Trace looked to her sister for support, only to find the sour expression Rafa got when she was trying to hold back from hurting Trace’s feelings. “You think I’m reaching.”

Rafa’s shoulders jerked in a shrug. “I dunno, hon. Ahsoka’s a sweet girl and all, but—“

“But what?” Trace asks, maybe too aggressively, but she doesn’t really care. Rafa never liked Ahsoka, not really.

 _”But,”_ Rafa’s finger extends to poke Trace in the forehead. “She’s still a Jedi.”

Trace bristles, swatting the finger away. “She saved us!”

“Exactly. She _saved_ us. Dashing hero swooping in to save the damsel in distress, that’s how the Jedi work, that’s why they’ve got the mile long savior complex shoved up their asses.” Rafa’s words are gentle in that way that says that she’s older and knows more than Trace does, and Trace _hates_ it when she does that. “I’m not saying you can’t like her, I just don’t want you getting your heart set on seeing her again.” Trace opens her mouth again to speak, but Rafa continues. “The last time we saw her she was running off to help someone else. There’s plenty of people in this galaxy in shittier situations than ours, Trace; who knows how many more tookas from trees she’ll find need saving? I hate to say it, but who can say if she’ll even remember us?”

Trace recoils from the words, not letting herself be pacified like she usually is. “No.” She shakes her head, refusing to consider it. 

No one stays, no one ever stays, not since her parents died. It’s always been just her and Rafa.

Ahsoka was the first one to ever consider them, consider _Trace_ worth sticking around for.

“Ahsoka’s coming back, I know it,” she tells Rafa with more confidence than she suspects she actually has. “We’re watching her bike, remember?” Trace jabs a thumb over at the lumpy form of Trash, luckily saved from the recent destruction by a heavy tarp that’s stayed over it. She’s spent more sleepness nights than she’d like to admit to herself on Ahsoka’s deathtrap with handlebars, souping it back up and adding repairs and alterations and even bartering away some parts she was going to use for the _Angel_ to get new additions to the bike’s repulser system to easy the rattling.

It’s a thank you gift, she’s justified to herself, and she’s rehearsed in her head how it’s gonna go when Ahsoka walks through their front door with that mischievous spark in those eyes, blue as the sky Trace has dreamed of flying in forever.

 _”You know,” Trace will say, leaning casually against the gleaming_ Angel _that looks better than ever. “It took me a lot of work, and I think you owe me one now, but I can finally say that your bike can be upgraded from Trash to Recycling.” She’ll smirk cockily at Ahsoka, who will cross her arms and roll her eyes, give Trace that crooked smile and say, “Really? Guess I’ll have to stay around so we can test that.”_

Ahsoka will be back, she told them she would, Trace tells herself as she walks away from Rafa, not sure where exactly she’s going.

Ahsoka doesn’t seem like the type to break promises.

Two days later is when it really ends, though.

This time, Trace and Rafa have both gone to bed when there’s a pounding at their door. They only have seconds to awaken blearily before it is kicked down and dark, armored figures with blasters are forcing their way into the room and yelling for them to _get up, get on your feet, don’t move your hands from where we can see them, get outside, now!_ Trace can barely see, blinded by the bright searchlights sticking out of the helmets of what her muzzied mind registers as Republic clone troopers, so she’s not able to put up any more of a fuss than to put her hands behind her head and get frogmarched out of the bedroom and out of their garage. 

Behind her, she can hear Rafa swearing viciously at the troopers and attempting to throw a punch, only for a sharp smack and her cry of pain to follow. Trace tenses in horror, remembering her sister’s limp body after the Pykes had tortured her, but the troopers prod her sharply in the back to _”Move!”_ , so she forces herself to keep her eyes ahead and continue outside.

Part of her mind is spinning to what the kark kind of deal Rafa made to get them arrested like this, only for the thought to drop completely as she sees the scene outside.

 _Everyone_ in their immediate neighborhood is being herded into the street still strewn with rubble and debris from the Separatist attack earlier, an entire squadron of clone troopers prowling the area and barking orders and grouping the sleepy, frightened civilians together.

Trace is steered to an empty space in the crowd and then left, Rafa thankfully jostled right in next to her. To Trace’s other side, there is the shivering figure of a small child in a tattered brown hood and robe. She stares down to meet the frightened purple eyes of a Tholothian girl who can’t be more than thirteen. The girl is clutching her side, and Trace notes with alarm the crimson stain spread under her fingers through the thin brown tunic she wears.

Trace risks a look around at the troopers before gently nudging the child, who jumps a foot in the air before Trace is able to hush her soothingly. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, kiddo. You’re hurt, where are your people?”

The girl cringes, and for a moment, Trace thinks she’s gonna try and slip through the crowd away from her, before the girl whispers back. “Th— the speeder I was in crashed. My ma— my uh, my guardian is dead. I’ve been lost since.” 

“Trace,” Rafa warns lowly from behind her, but Trace isn’t paying her any mind. She puts her best semblance of a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder and tells her, “Stick close to me, okay? After whatever this is is done, you can come back with us and we can patch you up, alright?”

_”Trace,” _Rafa repeats, but Trace only focuses on the small girl who’s looking up at her, dirty face streaked with tears, now that she can tell, and is nodding hesitantly.__

__“Listen up!” Everyone jumps at the booming voice of one of the troopers, massive red pauldron sticking out of his shoulder, stands on top of a chunk of grey rubble and addresses the crowd. “Apologies for the interruption to your evening,” the trooper begins, “but we are here to ensure your safety. We bring you dire but important news: the Jedi Order are traitors to the Republic!”_ _

__Trace’s heart turns to ice._ _

__The crowd bursts into distressed murmurs around them, and Trace can feel Rafa’s tightening hand on Trace’s arm, and on the other side, the small, hooded girl trying to melt herself directly into Trace, shivering violently._ _

___Ahsoka,_ Trace thinks._ _

__“Order!” barks the trooper. “Yes, it is true. Earlier tonight, members of the Jedi High Council attempted to assassinate Chancellor Palpatine and seize control of the government by force. The coup failed, but now all members of the Order are to be considered traitors. The punishment for treason in the Republic is execution. Our army is doing its best to hunt all ten thousand of these traitors down, but these fugitives are armed, highly dangerous, and possess powers normal people cannot understand.”_ _

__Trace’s thoughts flash back to Ahsoka flying across a gap where the jump should have killed her, Ahsoka, movements as she fought almost too fast for Trace to see paired with near superhuman grace, strength, and agility, Ahsoka, _moving things with her mind.__ _

__Trace wraps her arm tighter around the trembling girl as the trooper continues. “We have gathered you now because one of these traitors is in your midst. Our troopers have tracked a Jedi fugitive down to this level, and have pinpointed this area to be where they are approximately. If the Jedi wishes to save us and everyone else the trouble, they are now welcome to reveal themselves and submit to Republic custody. If not, we value your patience while we search your homes to locate and detain this criminal. If it is found that anyone is aiding and abetting this dangerous fugitive, they will also be charged with treason, so if anyone else knows where this Jedi might be, you are also welcome to speak up now.”_ _

__There’s another round of muttering at this, but the people down here don’t trust the government as far as any of them could throw a pebble, so no one says anything besides glaring balefully at the troopers. Trace runs a calming hand down the side of the little girl, noticing her shivering is making her wound bleed worse._ _

__The troopers wait a moment, but no mythical Jedi comes dropping out of the heavens, robes billowing, laser sword shining bright._ _

__The head trooper shrugs. “So be it.” He makes a motion to his fellow troopers, who split up and begin running into houses._ _

__Rafa is watching them head towards the garage, glaring. “Those dicks better not mess with any of my shit.”_ _

__“Rafa,” Trace warns. “Really not the issue right now.”_ _

__She had never been the biggest fan of the Jedi, but, _traitors?__ _

__“I’m just saying!” Rafa snaps back. “Not everything I keep in there is strictly on the books, legally speaking, the last thing we need is them giving us trouble when they aren’t even here for us. They can’t seriously expect us to stay out here all night—“_ _

__“Do— do you guys really think the Jedi are bad?” The small voice interrupts the argument, and both sisters look down at where the girl is clutching Trace’s nightshirt with one hand, other still pressed to her wound. She looks to the point of tears again. “Do you believe them?”_ _

__“No,” Trace tells her instantly, truthfully. “I don’t. Something isn’t right about this.”_ _

__“Trace, I don’t—” Now Rafa is the one warning, and Trace is ready to turn and start arguing again, when a loud, crumbling groan sounds behind them and screaming start up again._ _

__They turn to look in horror as a loose wall already damaged by the orbital bombardment is beginning to finally break away from where it was stubbornly clinging to its foundation, hundreds of pounds of metal and duracrete ready to plummet to the ground and crush whatever is beneath it._ _

__There is an entire clump of people trapped in its shadow as it goes, and despite the troopers shoving them away, it’s obvious not everyone will make it clear in time._ _

__“No!” The young girl rips herself from Trace’s side, something falling out of her robe pocket as she goes._ _

__“Kid!” Trace makes a grab for the girl, Rafa suddenly holding her back making it so the most Trace can do is brush her fingers against the girl’s hood as she goes, knocking it off her head._ _

__The girl skids to a halt in the center of the street just as the wall gives way._ _

__The girl thrusts out her hands stained with her own blood._ _

__The wall freezes in the air, halfway to the ground._ _

__The crowd goes silent save for the panicked cries of the rest of the group scrambling their way out from under the wall that was a split second from flattening them._ _

__Tremors still ripple their way through the girl’s entire form— she looks so much _smaller_ alone in the streetlights —but her hands are steady._ _

__Rafa’s arms around Trace go slack, but Trace is too stunned to move._ _

__Whispers flicker around the crowd._ _

_Jedi._

_Jedi…_

“There’s the traitor!” cries one of the troopers. “She’s trying to bring the wall down on us, blast her!" 

Trace doesn’t have time to think, _Wait,_ before there’s a bright bolt of blue connecting directly with the girl’s chest, she’s flying backwards like a limp rag doll, and she’s hitting the ground at the same time the crumbling wall falls the rest of the way with a massive _boom!_ and a cloud of dust. 

All Trace can do is stare down at the dead girl, the dead _Jedi_ , the red stain on her tunic no longer drawing attention as opposed to the still-glowing black hole smoking directly above her heart. 

More murmurings in the crowd. 

_She tried to drop a wall on us…_

_The Jedi are traitors!_

“She was trying to _save_ you, you—“ Trace starts, only for Rafa to clamp a hand over her mouth. 

“Not now, Trace, not now.” 

Trace find herself slumping into her sister’s arms, motionless as a trooper moves forward and nudges the lifeless, tiny body with a boot, picking the body up and throwing it over a shoulder and heading for a speeder in a distance, and the rest of the troopers directing the crowd of people back to their homes. Something on the ground glints in the streetlights, and Trace spots a small, metal cylinder, the thing that fell out of the girl’s robe pocket when she stepped forward to save that people and doom herself. 

_Why did you do that?_ Trace cries to herself as she kneels to pick the cylinder up. It’s heavier than it looks. 

She almost fumbles it when she hears a voice echoing in her head, of another Jedi, on that one horrible day so long ago. 

_I had to make a choice…_

Trace blinks the Mirialan Jedi’s face out of her head, trying to chase away the pressure building behind her eyes. It wasn’t fair. This kid was so young. Why did the Jedi just teach people to sacrifice the lesser numbers, sacrifice _themselves_ so more people who would never give two shits about them could live? 

She barely registers Rafa dragging her back inside, the metal cylinder cool against the inside of her sleeve. 

She is guided down to sit in a chair and she continues to dissociate until a mug of something warm is being plunked down in front of her and Rafa is ordering, “Drink”. 

The hot, spicy taste of caf mixed with something a bit stronger burns on Trace’s tongue and brings her slightly back to reality. The cylinder sits hidden in her lap as she looks up from the dented metal mug to where Rafa is sitting across from her with another, untouched mug. 

“You know that was wrong, Rafa,” is what Trace is able to say, finally. “You know that kid didn’t do anything.” 

Rafa’s lips purse, she looks away. “The kid was unlucky.” 

“Unlucky?!” Trace sets her mug down. “Rafa, the kid was _murdered_ , right in front of us! She was trying to help, and people said it was her fault!” 

“Hey, she chose to hide down here and use all of us as cover.” 

“Because she was a little girl and a dozen armed guys were hunting her for sport! She told me whoever was looking after her was killed already, she was already hurt, what else was she supposed to do?” 

“I don’t know, okay?” Rafa snaps. “But maybe the Jedi should have thought about how this would endanger their kids before they decided to pull a stunt like trying to take over the Republic?” 

Trace tastes bile in her throat. “Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually believe—“ 

She jumps at Rafa’s harsh laugh. “Come _on,_ Trace. Wake up! We’ve known for ages the Jedi were more talk than actions, that they don’t actually want to help people unless it makes them look good.” 

“But Ahsoka—“ Trace begins, but Rafa cuts her off with a slice of her hand through the air. 

“Ahsoka was an exception, not the rule. She was a dreamer, an example of who Jedi were _supposed_ to act like, we knew that too, remember? She said she had to leave ‘em because they didn’t treat her right! Maybe we should have taken that as a sign that all the good ones are being driven away!” 

“She believed in them though,” Trace whispers. “She said they still wanted to help people. She was going to go back to them.” 

Rafa’s face darkens. “You’re right, she did. And guess what? Now they’re probably after her too.” 

Now it really feels like the caf Trace has drank is going to come back up. _No. No, no, stars please, no. Not her._

She flinches at Rafa’s hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Trace.” Her sister’s voice is soft, genuine, amber eyes bright. “To be perfectly honest, when those guys dragged us out and started ranting about Jedi coming here, I was positive we were gonna see Ahsoka again tonight, that she had decided to come down here and they were gonna kill her and the both of us for knowing her. I’m glad it’s not her, glad we don’t know where she is— or was. It’ll hurt less that way, you know that.” 

Trace shakes her head. She can’t believe it. “No, she wouldn’t— she couldn’t…” Ahsoka could fend for herself like no one Trace has seen before. “I think Ahsoka’s alive.” 

“Trace…” Rafa’s words are pitying, but Trace doesn’t care. 

“That kid made it this far and she was a little thing, who knows how long a badass like Ahsoka could last. I’m keeping an eye out for her, you were right. She could come to us for help.” 

“Wait, hang on!” Rafa yelps. “Did you miss the ‘aiding and abetting’ part of that guy’s spiel? If we’re caught with a Jedi, we’re dead too!” 

“We’re no more innocent than Ahsoka either way,” Trace argues. “Even if… even if maybe the Jedi are bad, I can’t believe she’d be a part of this. And I don’t think you believe that either. _And_ and—“ 

"‘And and’? Really?” 

“—we owe her, she saved us during the Pyke spice incident. We have the duty to save her now if she comes to us for help!” 

Trace crosses her arms and juts her chin out, daring Rafa to argue with her. Rafa’s answering deadpan is pinched and angry, the tired bags under her sister’s eyes deeper than usual, and Trace feels the slightest twinge of guilt at the reminder of her sister’s struggles to provide for the both of them, how Rafa just wants to protect them. 

Finally, Rafa sighs. “Fine. If Ahsoka shows up, she can stay.” 

Trace feels a tired sense of triumph, but she still double checks. “And you won’t sell her out to the feds?” 

Rafa snorts. “They’d kill us if they found her here with us. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” 

“Thank you,” Trace beams, leaning forward to hug her sister only to pause and stifle a yawn. 

“Why don’t we get you back to bed?” Rafa suggests, rolling her eyes fondly. 

Trace is about to agree, when the image of the dead girl pops up behind her eyes. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep tonight. And besides… 

Her gaze trails over to where Trash is still sitting patiently under its tarp, waiting for its owner to retrieve it. 

“You go on ahead,” Trace tells Rafa, managing a smile she doesn’t feel inside. “I wanna finish the caf, maybe keep watch for more of those guys.” 

_Or someone else…_

Rafa’s knowing look of disapproval tells her she hasn’t gotten any better at lying to her sister, but Rafa looks too tired herself to argue any further. There’s a light punch to her knee. “Don’t stay up all night, you know that messes with your sleep schedule.” 

“Yes Rafa,” Trace singsongs, watching as her sister rises to her feet and walks off towards the bedroom, shooting not so inconspicuous looks over her shoulder as she goes. 

As soon as Rafa’s gone, Trace turns on her stool and watches outside the hangar, clutching her cooling cup of spiked caf for comfort. 

The dust is still settling from the falling wall. 

If she cranes her neck, she can just see where she was standing when the girl was— 

_No. Don’t think about that._

Trace locks the memory away in the same part of her brain where the image of her parents’ unmoving bodies lives. 

She focuses on the door, waiting, hoping, to see orange, white, and blue melting out of the dusk. 

The next day, Trace does all her work in full view of the garage door, once more on the lookout for striped montrals and sky blue eyes. 

Nothing. 

The day after, Trace is once more out front, one eye on the door. 

Nothing again. 

That night, Trace has a nightmare for the first time in a while. The little girl, flying through the air with the impact of the blaster bolt, falling at her feet and suddenly those dead violet eyes are foggy azure, and Ahsoka is laying dead in front of her, and there is nothing Trace can do. 

When her cries wake up Rafa, Trace tells her it’s another dream about their parents. Rafa accepts this, lets Trace sleep in her bed like they used to do every night after they first became orphans. 

The next week, Trace maintains her post by the door, hoping, waiting, wishing. The night of Trace’s first nightmare, her and Rafa had watched the holonews, had seen the Senate session broadcasted live to every available device in the galaxy, where the Chancellor had called himself the Emperor, ended the Clone War, and turned the entire galaxy from a Republic into an Empire. 

Trace has no clue what that means, and Rafa doesn’t either, though they’re not that concerned. What’s the difference? Republic or Empire, it’s still the same system by a different name. No one is going to magically start caring about the people like them. 

The Jedi are now complete outlaws, and the news has various stories of different Jedi traitors being caught and killed. Trace holds her breath each time a new story comes up, but never does the name Ahsoka Tano make an appearance. 

That doesn’t make her nightmares go away. 

Ahsoka Tano has still made no physical appearance in their doorway or anywhere else two weeks after the whatever it calls itself government starts hunting Jedi, but Trace isn’t giving up hope. Last time she did, Ahsoka came back for them. 

She can tell Rafa knows exactly what she’s doing and why she’s taken to her new spot in the garage and doesn’t approve, but for all her sister’s passive aggressive side comments and grumblings and “hey Trace, were we even really sure if Ahsoka was her actual name or not?”, Rafa never tells Trace to stop, or tries to say that Ahsoka is dead, and Trace appreciates that. 

A morning one month later, Trace is making the bed she didn’t sleep in because nightmares again, and something rolls off the side from under the pillow and lands on the floor with a thump. Trace reaches down and recognizes the cylinder from That Night. 

She never knew for sure what it was, but she remembers what was hanging at the Mirialan Jedi’s belt That Day, and she’s got a fairly good idea. 

Rafa would kill her for having it if she’s right, but in all the chaos and worry, Trace has completely forgot about it until now. 

She examines it. There’s a hole— she should probably point that away from her, no matter what it is —and a long, thin body sticking out of it. There’s thin golden striped ridges on the other end and a flared base with an intricate swirling design also in gold. 

There’s what looks like a button. 

Trace holds her breath and presses it. 

In a hiss that sounds like stars colliding, a beam of blinding sky blue light erupts from it. 

Trace does the normal and sane thing which is to scream and toss it at the wall. 

It bounces off, scoring a black slash along it, and falls to the ground with the blade extinguishing again. 

Trace stares at it. 

She’s very glad Rafa’s out running an errand, she wouldn’t want to explain this, and she can fix the wall before she gets home but… 

_Lightsaber,_ a hidden part of Trace’s brain whispers. 

Hesitantly, she reaches for it again, holds it more firmly in her grip, and presses the button, preparing herself for the ignition. 

Now that her shock has abided, Trace as a mechanic and aspiring engineer can truly appreciate just how beautiful the blade is. It hums softly as she waves it around, surprised to feel what seems to be air resistance as she turns it this way and that. Already, her mind is working on overdrive, chomping at the bit to take it apart and find just how it works. 

The blue is nice too, she thinks. 

The Jedi woman who killed her parents had a blue blade as well. 

But this one is different, brighter. 

It’s the same blue as Ahsoka’s eyes. 

Trace realizes she never saw Ahsoka wielding a lightsaber. 

She wonders what color Ahsoka would have had. 

Trace likes to think it was blue, blue to match her lovely eyes. 

Nodding to herself, Trace extinguishes the blade with another flick of the button and tucks it into her inner vest pocket, pleased to have another pet project to work on. 

Time goes by. Trace still forms a habit of looking for Ahsoka to show up, keeps her bike Trash polished and gleaming, but after two, five, nine months, a year go by, it’s more and more becoming only a habit rather than actual hope. 

Trace still won’t believe Ahsoka’s dead, no. She just figures that Ahsoka would be smart enough to figure that the best place for her would not be on the same planet as the government that wants her dead. 

A government, Trace and Rafa have found out, might actually be worse than the old Republic after all. Things aren’t too much different, but it’s become harder to find food, lights and water don’t work as well, crime rates in their area of the lower levels have increased substantially, and it’s become such an utter pain in the ass to fly the _Angel_ anywhere on planet let alone off it that after one close encounter with the planetary security forces, Trace accepts Rafa’s order of no more flying with only a minor screaming match and little resistance. It’s harder though, life is. Money is short. 

At least she has the lightsaber. Trace has been highly enjoying herself taking the thing apart and putting it back together again— they use _crystals_ to power it, a fancy crystal that completely shorted out and broke Trace’s commlink when she tried to charge it as an experiment to see what else the crystal could power. She still hasn’t shown Rafa, not only because her sister would undoubtedly flip her entire shit, but also because something about working with the saber, with the crystal in particular, feels… _peaceful._

It’s difficult for Trace to describe, but it just makes her feel happier, lighter in a way she hasn’t felt since before her parents passed away. 

It feels almost a bit like Ahsoka did, like it felt when she brushed a hand against hers, when she won one of those wry smiles, when she felt a strong grip straightening her and helping her run, the sweet, clear cadence of her voice. 

Trace knows she’s a romantic, that Ahsoka was the first girl she ever had a crush on, of course it’s a bit silly to still feel like this, but. 

Ahsoka still dies in her dreams sometimes. 

So Trace will take out the saber crystal sometimes, the same blue as Ahsoka’s eyes, and talk to it, feel like she’s being listened to. 

She finds having it in her pocket makes fixing ships go faster, makes running errands for Rafa go more smoothly, makes it easier to make her sister smile. 

Maybe Jedi crystals were lucky crystals, she supposes, and that’s why they powered their blades. 

Maybe, just maybe, it will bring Trace some luck too. 

**Author's Note:**

> I might post a sequel to this which has to do with Trace getting back in contact with Ahsoka again after _things_ happen that force her hand, but I'm not sure yet!
> 
> Hope everyone enjoyed! :D Tell me what you thought in the comments below, or say hi to me on tumblr at my blog [@twilightofthe](https://twilightofthe.tumblr.com/)


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